


a daydream away

by Madly_In_Anger



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: C2E77, F/M, also slightly? intamate talk but not really nsfw, and breif descriptions of violence/gore, takes place during/after ep 77, there's some adult language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madly_In_Anger/pseuds/Madly_In_Anger
Summary: It’s a feeling he only ever associates with Jester anymore. It feels dangerous. Like fire. No—dangerous, like Jester.And he absolutely loves it.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	a daydream away

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to @grandfatherclock and @dorcasdeadowes for helping me edit! It's not related to any of the prompts but WJ week seemed like the perfect time to force myself to post something :)

“Are you daydreaming?” 

Caleb is not. 

He  _ is _ in his head, though, and far more than usual tonight. Only, there’s nothing dreamy about it. Caleb wouldn’t even call it a  _ nightmare _ , just a slow, grueling crawl inside his skull. His brain feels jumbled, a syrupy waterlogged mess that he’s wading through miserably as he stands with his arms elbow deep in a basin of water. 

He’s been scrubbing at the dirt underneath his nails for an indeterminable amount of time, too occupied with how uncanny Astrid’s face looked in place of Beau’s—how strange it was to see her standing so casually with her arms crossed and speaking with a prose that didn’t belong to her. He thought of Astrid, and he thought of the Vollstrecker—just a girl, no bigger than  _ they _ were all those years ago—crumpled on the dungeon floor covered in her own blood and some of Caleb’s. He thought to himself over and over about how that  _ could have been you, Astrid, it could have been Wulf, could have been any of us— _

Jesters silvery voice cuts through the image as if it’s nothing.

His eyes snap up to find her standing in the threshold of his room, hand curled around the door and her head leaning in far enough to peek at him. He lets out a silent breath and flicks water off his hands so he can wave her in. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, rubbing them dry on his shirt, “what did you say?”   
  
Jester remains in place for a long moment and watches him, as if she’s parsing something out, before sliding in the rest of the way and closing the door to a crack. “I just asked if you were daydreaming or something. You must have been  _ pretty  _ distracted not to notice  _ me _ come in.” 

It’s not an unreasonable conclusion, but Caleb doesn’t like the way it sounds coming out of her mouth. It’s a little self-deprecating— _ good-humored _ , certainly—but not altogether  _ right _ . Jester is very good at being noticed, but Caleb doesn’t think it’s always—or even _ mostly _ —for terrible reasons. 

“No,” He says simply. “I was not.” 

“Are you  _ sure _ ?” 

“I don’t daydream.” 

“Oh, really?” Jester cocks her head to one side and blinks at him. Then she states, matter-of-factly, “ _ Everyone _ daydreams, Caleb.”

"Hah. Maybe," he concedes, eyes dipping down to look at his fingers. They're pruned but clean, if a little red along the ends where he scrubbed them raw. "But no. I wasn't daydreaming." It occurs to him after a moment that it might have been better to lie and say that he was. It wouldn’t be too hard to come up with something at least partly believable. But he  _ didn’t, _ and now Jester will ask what he  _ was _ thinking about.

As if she doesn’t already know.

Before that can happen, he asks, "Is Beauregaurd asleep?"

She worries her lip between her teeth for a short second. She's aware of what he's doing, aware that he's changing the subject. She has to be, Jester is too clever to let it go over her head and Caleb  _ knows _ that, but she seems to accept it and shakes her head. "Nope. She's still talking with Dairon. What about Nott? I thought she was in here with you?” 

"Ja, but she left a little while ago." 

"When?"

_ How long have you been moping here by yourself? _ is what she's truly asking, and Caleb's not sure he even knows the answer. "Forty minutes ago," he guesses anyways, because an exact number is what Jester might expect from a  _ sound-of-mind _ Caleb. 

Jester only hums softly in response, wandering closer with a few slow strides. She leans and peers into the basin. The water, pink with his blood, appears more of a murky purple underneath the dim lantern light. She scrunches her nose at it and mumbles something under her breath that Caleb doesn’t catch. 

He doesn't have time to inquire about it before she swivels on her heel to face him and narrows her eyes. He holds his breath as she leans in and examines his neck and shoulders, even reaching up to pull the low cut of his shirt sideways to gaze at his chest with barely hidden interest. 

His mouth suddenly feels dry.

“Looks like you got most of the blood.” Caleb wets his lips as she looks up at him through her thick black lashes. “You’ve still got a little right there, though.”    
  
Caleb blinks at her, then looks to the small round mirror hanging slanted on the far wall, angling himself to get a better view. “Where?” 

“ _ Here _ .” She extends a finger and gestures at the soft curve of her own jaw. Caleb reaches up and touches his fingers to his face, and Jester smiles, shaking her head. “Just—hold on a second.” The rag hanging from the side of the basin is already damp with the dirty water, but if that bothers Jester she doesn’t let it show, grabbing it and wetting a corner. She stares at him expectantly, and he can only stare back until she raises an eyebrow and tells him, “Look up!” 

He does. The coarse fabric touches the bottom of his chin— _ gently, _ he thinks, _ she’s so gentle _ —and rubs small circles into his skin. He can feel a thin crusting of blood along the underside of his jaw begin to chip away and wonders how he missed it. He really was lost in thought, too busy wrapping his brain around the events of the day and how foolish he had been, expecting it to go any other way except for how it  _ did _ .

_ Sixteen years have passed _ . Trent took advantage of each one, as far as Caleb knows, smoothing out every wrinkle in his program that allowed Caleb to fail. A simple conversation couldn’t have done anything for someone as indoctrinated as this Vollstrecker was. If the shard of metal hidden away behind her back had landed its mark and killed him, he’d have had it coming.    
  
He can still remember Jester’s shout as it happened. He registered the panic in her voice before he even registered the  _ pain. _

“ _ You’re doing it again _ ,” Jester suddenly teases, a clear smile in her voice, and Caleb huffs a laugh through his nose. “ _ Daydreaming _ .” 

“I was just wondering why you’re taking so long,” he retorts. It's  _ almost _ an accusation.“You said there was only a little bit.”    
  
“What?” She feigns offense. “I’m being _ thorough _ , that's all. I think that’s a pretty rude thing to say after I offered to help, you know…”   
  
“And I think,” Caleb says, carefully angling his face so that he can look at her, “that you are  _ trouble _ , Lavorre.” 

“Yeah? And _ I _ think you  _ like _ it.”

Lavender eyes, practically  _ lit up _ with confidence, fix onto his. Like she’s daring him to deny it. 

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. Because she’s  _ right _ , and they’re both fully aware.

He might have disagreed months ago, back when he was still too arrogant and guilt-obsessed to admit how endeared he was by her games. Caleb knows better than to try and resist them now. She has a remarkable way of worming her way into any heart she pleases and softening down its edges. Maybe it’s her particular brand of chaos, or maybe it’s just  _ Jester _ , sweet and funny and kind and impossible to resist. It excites him. Deep in the hollowed pit of his stomach, turning and twisting and demanding his attention. One might’ve thought Caleb had gotten good at ignoring it by now considering all the practice he’s gotten. But it’s potent and intense, and it drives him to absolute delirium when he so much as  _ thinks _ about her. 

It’s a feeling he only ever associates with Jester anymore. It feels dangerous. Like fire. No—dangerous, like  _ Jester _ . 

And he absolutely loves it. 

Caleb meets her gaze, fondly, unwavering, and with perfect gravity. 

\--

Caleb is smiling at her.    
  
Except he isn’t—he rarely ever  _ smiles _ for real.    
  
But he looks pleased. And that’s good enough for her.    
  
She focuses on getting what’s left of the blood wiped away. There’s nothing left of it, really, but she just wants to stand here a little bit longer. She feels calm right now, and after the scare she had today, that’s exactly what she  _ needs _ . 

The glory of perspective, for Jester, is knowing that she has seen worse.    
  
Ripped flesh and exposed tendon, the stunning white of bone where it shouldn’t be, the putrid reek of rotten flesh and blood so old it runs like molasses and sticks. Jester can barely even remember the sensation of shock that used to spear through her when she saw one of the Nein take a nasty hit.

That shock has become a calm resignment. Confidence, even. Jester is accustomed to watching her magic seep into skin, seal torn flesh and ease the harsh color of angry bruises. 

She’s desensitized to it.

But watching the wide, ugly spray of Caleb’s blood from his neck in that cell was a petrifying punch to the gut. Jester isn’t even certain how she managed to jump to action so quickly. Her legs were heavier than lead after the initial panic died down and her heartbeat  _ still _ feels a little warped and uneven. 

“Jester?”   
  
She pauses and looks at him.    
  
“Are you done?”    
  
Oh, fuck.  _ Stupid, _ Jester thinks furiously, _ stupid! _ She nods and lowers the rag. “Yeah, I think so! Sorry.”    
  
“Don’t be,” he insists, making  _ that face _ again.    
  


Jester likes it, the way he smiles at her without really smiling. The lift of his eyes and how they wrinkle slightly at the corners, or the way the hard lines of his face seem to disappear, or how his nostrils flare a little bit as if a silent breath of laughter is escaping from them. Jester thinks Caleb can be _ very _ expressive sometimes, nearly as often as he is monotone and difficult to read.  _ If _ you know what to look for. And Jester  _ does _ know. She knows the architecture of his face and his non-smiling smiles. That’s what she calls them. She knows how to  _ earn _ them too, exactly what buttons to push to draw them out, and she pushes them a little harder every day, pushes and pushes and  _ pushes _ because she likes the way it makes her heart beat a little faster.

She just…  _ likes  _ it. 

And maybe she’s letting it show, because Caleb hoiks a brow at her and swallows—Jester’s eyes dip to catch the bob of his throat—before he prompts her with a nod of his head. “What? What is that look for?” 

“Nothing!” She shakes her head and bounces her shoulders restlessly. “ _ Nothing _ , I was just—” 

“Daydreaming?”

Jester bites the inside of her cheek and tries not to look too amused by that. She’s also keenly aware that it must be less than convincing. “No,” She informs him, then clicks her tongue, “I was _not_ _daydreaming—_ "

"Oh, but Jester," He grins. For real, Traveler as her witness,  _ grins _ . " _ Everyone  _ daydreams." 

His expression is  _ so  _ smug and he wears it well. That arrogance isn't something that shines through often, but Jester thinks it suits him nicely. It never puts her off the way she suspects it might from anyone else. Heat rises in her face, just faintly, and she titters before her voice warbles into a laugh. 

“ _ Ja _ .” Her little impression of his accent makes Caleb's brow furrow in amusement. “Of course everyone daydreams.  _ Especially _ me. I have very active imagination.”    
  
“One of your many qualities,” he agrees, taking the rag from her gently and sidestepping her to drop it back into the water. Jester watches him as he goes to where the mirror is and runs his hand over himself, from his cheek all the way down the side of his neck, briefly stopping over his clavicle where he’d been stabbed, and coming to a stop on his chest. In the reflection, his eyes find hers. “I’m only saying that  _ something _ must have been going on in that brain of yours.”    
  
Jester sticks out her tongue and wiggles it around. “Wouldn’t  _ you _ like to know?” 

“Ja.” He faces her again and leans against the small square table that stands just under the mirror. “I would.” 

Something about his tone gives Jester pause. It’s… soft. Sincere. The playful edge she expected was replaced by something  _ frighteningly  _ genuine and the curve of her lips flattens slightly as the words bounce around in her head before slotting into place.

Oh.

Caleb is still looking at her.  _ Thoughtfully _ , like Jester could say anything in the world and he would just  _ listen _ . Anything; even if it wasn't something funny or bizarre or exciting. And even though that’s something Caleb makes her feel  _ often _ , more and more lately, it manages to surprise her every single time. 

“That's pretty rich coming from  _ Caleb Widogast _ ,” is what she finally manages to say once the shock wears off a little. There’s no real punch behind her words though and he clearly doesn’t take it badly, laughing under his breath and nodding.    
  
“That is… fair. More than fair. It’s never been my place to demand answers from anyone. I just—” He’s being cautious. Caleb hesitates for a long time, unrolling his sleeves and rolling them back up to his elbows neatly as he continues. “I just get the feeling that maybe you’re a little tired of not being listened to when you  _ do _ speak your mind. And I would hope that you know there are those who are willing to hear you.”

“Oh,” she says. It’s all she can say. She opens her mouth and closes it a few times. She hates feeling like something is expected of her when she doesn’t know exactly what that thing  _ is, _ but it’s not so bad like this. Caleb is being so patient, watching her with no hint of ridicule or annoyance, and no real expectation. Finally, she sighs and laughs to release some of the tension. Caleb’s eyes wrinkle kindly at the corners. 

“You know… My momma used to tell me I didn’t need permission to speak. And I believed her. I still  _ do _ ! Momma is  _ so _ smart. But I just feel like… sometimes it’s better to say things that people  _ want _ to hear.” 

Jester has a long running habit of making herself easily digestible for others. And by the time she had come to realize just how badly she isolated herself, she was  _ used _ to it.

Caleb waits.

“I know that sometimes I talk about going back home, but I really do love being with you guys. I don’t think I’d ever change that. But we deal with so much shit. Like, a _ lot  _ of  _ shit _ . And it feels good to be able to take the weight off of everyone’s shoulders when it gets bad. I think it’s nice to have someone around to do that.” 

He waits another few beats and then finally nods at her. “Ja, I think so too. It is _ very _ nice.” 

_ See,  _ she’s about to say _ , that’s all it is, I don’t want you to worry,  _ and then Caleb adds, “But that is a side effect of having you around, Jester. It is  _ not _ your job. We are a”—he gestures vaguely in front of himself a few times, before linking his fingers together as if to represent a unit—“a  _ family _ . And that means it is just as much our job to make sure  _ you _ are happy. Or to listen, when you aren’t.”

Jester stares. She thinks maybe her vision is getting a little swimmy. She blinks until it’s not anymore.   
  


“Earlier, before we went shopping, you told me that I could always talk to you. And I am just…” He shrugs. “Just extending the same invitation. You are _ more _ than welcome to leave it.” 

Jester takes a step back, and then another, until her knees hit the edge of his mattress. She lowers herself down and sits, hands still bunched up in the fabric of her skirt, and offers him a tight smile. He returns it. His face is all scrunched up the way it always gets when he is uncertain of himself. But she knows he means everything he said, because Caleb doesn’t just say things he doesn’t  _ mean _ . 

  
_ And he always has so much to say about me _ , she thinks. 

She hums to herself thoughtfully before collapsing back onto his bed with a quiet  _ thump _ . She sighs and raises her arms, stretching out. “Seriously, though. I do daydream a lot. Sometimes I think about you.” 

“… Me?”    
  
There’s a funny little lilt in his voice that makes Jester want to laugh. She bites her lip and nods. “ _ Mhhhm _ . Especially when I daydream. Like… when we were in Uthodern that first night and I couldn’t really sleep. I kept thinking about how much I missed the sunlight back home.” Jester begins to ramble a little, but she allows herself to ramble, because it's going somewhere,  _ maybe _ , if she can just keep her nerve long enough. “Xhorhas isn’t so bad. I  _ like _ it here. This house is pretty freakin’ sweet and all, I just miss the sunlight sometimes. So I was daydreaming about laying in bed back at home and how the sunlight comes in through the windows in the morning. And in my head, I roll over and…" Jester exhales. "You’re lying next to me.”   
  


If there’s a visible reaction from Caleb, Jester is almost relieved that she can’t see it from where she is. She can  _ hear _ him though. There’s a shift and the table creaks under his weight, and it makes her hyper-aware that her heart is  _ rabbiting  _ against her breast, but she’s just the slightest bit proud of having made him speechless. Jester just hopes it’s a  _ good _ speechless.    
  
“You’re—you’re lying next to me. And you look really nice in the sun, Caleb. It makes your hair all glowy at the top and you look so warm and calm and it makes me want to kiss you awake. So I  _ do _ . I lean over and smooch you all over your face until you’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and grumbling something about how early it is and stuff.” 

She could keep going. There’s so much to say, so many details that she has made up in her head. Details like how she’s wearing Caleb’s shirt from the night before and how it must look  _ really _ good on her, because Caleb is  _ looking _ at her like it does, and how he kisses her back, and how it’s peaceful and happy and how just  _ remembering _ all of it makes her feel restless. 

Her nerves are beginning to get the better of her though. Jester knows she doesn't embarrass easily. She isn’t even certain that  _ embarrassed _ is the right word for how she’s feeling right now, but Caleb is still holding his silence and it’s making her feel like maybe she shouldn’t have said so much.    
  
“Caleb…” She brings her arms back down to her stomach and folds them over it, chewing a thin film of skin off the inside of her lip. “It’s okay if that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same. But sometimes I think that maybe you  _ do _ . You know?” 

And she could be so,  _ so _ wrong. She knows she has a history or wishful thinking. It took her a long time to work out all of her feelings about Fjord, to realize that sometimes she saw what she wanted to see and sometimes she just felt a certain way because that's what she thought she was  _ supposed _ to feel. But Caleb has always been different. She feels more secure in herself around him. Like even if she is wrong and he  _ doesn't _ , it wouldn’t  _ matter _ , because he’ll still be her friend and he'll be so gracious about it and he won't let this change anything. He'd never do anything that makes her feel lesser; Jester is convinced of that much. 

“And if you don’t you can just tell me. I mean it, it’s  _ okay _ , I just—sometimes I look at you and you’re looking at me and I feel like you’re holding something back. And I know how that feels.” 

She props herself up on an elbow but doesn’t quite look at Caleb yet. She picks at her fingernails instead— _ they’re getting longer, they're unpainted at the base, I should fix that _ —and observes his shape in the corner of her eye. He’s perfectly still. “Caleb… earlier, when I bought you all of that stuff. You were holding something back then too. And I wonder if you would ever actually say what you were thinking if I didn’t  _ ask _ .” 

The silence stretches. It finally breaks when Caleb laughs. The sound is clipped and it makes Jester wince. “Probably not,” he admits. "I have come close a few times, but then I think better of it."

Jester despises those words. She knows what they really mean, and she wishes she could snatch them right out of his mouth and make them vanish. 

"Caleb…  _ don't _ —"

"And—" another rough breath of laughter from Caleb finally bends Jester's resolve. Her eyes snap up to his face. He's a bit red, and not just where the blood had been scrubbed away and irritated his skin. His cheeks are a little  _ flushed _ and Jester wants to tell him how  _ darling _ he looks, but she bites her lip to refrain from saying so. Caleb isn't looking back at her. He’s staring at his hands, white-knuckled on his knees. "And sometimes it is just  _ too much  _ to say. If you asked me all the things I thought of you, I'm afraid we would be here all night."

That certainly doesn't do anything to calm her nerves, but Jester realizes she can finally understand them better now, realizes it's  _ not _ embarrassment she feels after all. The light headedness and rhythmic slamming against her chest have very  _ little _ to do with shame, in fact, and have far more in common with excitement. Adrenaline.

"Do you mean that?" Her voice is soft but hopeful as she sits up all the way. When Caleb nods-- albeit a little jerkily-- her tail begins to swish back and forth of its own accord. 

"And if— if I have trouble saying it at all at once, it is not because I don't mean it. You know that, ja? I— this is  _ very _ —"

"It's okay, Caleb!" Jester is up on her feet in an instant, and she waves her hands around in dismissal, perhaps too quickly. "You don't have to say it all right now! Or  _ ever _ , if you don't want to. Just… as long as you're sure you're not just saying it for  _ my  _ sake or something." 

Jester wants to believe it so badly. Yet there's a small nugget of doubt in the back of her mind. That maybe he's just being nice. Maybe he's just saying all of this out of some skewed sense of loyalty.

Caleb makes a face that Jester quickly decides she does  _ not  _ like. It's all wrinkled up. His mouth is twisted funny and his eyes are sad. "I wouldn't fabricate something like this. Even if it--" he sighs. "Even if it makes you happier in the short term. It would be cruel. I know better than to lie to you. It is just… a lot." 

She nods. "Okay, Caleb." 

There is a long silence and then he clears his throat. Jester feels light-headed. "We should get some sleep, yes?" 

"Yeah, yeah! Of course!" She doesn't move just yet, just rocks on her heels and wets her lips. "Um, but you'll remember to come see me in the morning? We don't have to talk about any of  _ this _ , or anything, but I would just like to--" 

Caleb stands up and the words die on her lips as he pulls her into a hug. She can't help but grin into his shoulder as she hugs him back. "I promise," he whispers, "You will be the first thing on my mind in the morning."

There's an unspoken addendum of;  _ you usually are. _

  
  


  
  



End file.
